


Through the Barricades

by a_lanart - the younger (a_lanart)



Series: Subtext [6]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lanart/pseuds/a_lanart%20-%20the%20younger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from the song by Spandau Ballet</p>
    </blockquote>





	Through the Barricades

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by Spandau Ballet

~*~

Through The Barricades

*

 

"Ensign Kim: Personal Log.....  
When I woke up this morning I didn't want to die. My first thoughts were actually of the day ahead, for a change. Maybe, just maybe there is an end to all the fear and pain and disgust and somewhere out there my normal life is waiting to reclaim me. It still seems hopelessly remote, but it appeared that today it at last became a possibility. I wish the pain would just *go* but today I began to realise that death, no matter how attractive, is not the correct answer for me."

* * *

Kathryn Janeway glanced up from the padd she was studying as Chakotay entered her ready room. There seemed to be a lightness of spirit around him that had been missing for far too long. She lay the padd down on the seat beside her, smiling a welcome.

"Well?" She asked. There was obviously something good to report for a change. Chakotay sat down beside her, an answering smile on his face.

"I wanted to ask you to lift the restrictions on Harry's replicator."

She searched Chakotay's face very carefully.

"Are you sure?"

"We both are." She leaned back in her seat with a sigh of relief

"I am very glad to hear that. Superficially, he's been as efficient as ever for the last few weeks, but there's been no sparkle to his work, no..."

"Life?"

"Exactly."

Chakotay sighed.

"He still has a long road to travel before he gets to be the Harry we recognise. And to be quite honest, I'm not sure if he'll ever get there. Too much has happened to him, Kathryn, and he'll never be the same person again."

"We all learn by experience Chakotay, good and bad; but I have to admit from a personal viewpoint this is one Rite of Passage I could have quite happily lived without."

"And as Captain?"

"As Captain I need you to help my senior ops officer sort himself out so he can do his job to the best of his ability. Voyager has to come first."

"You know I'll do my best." He rose to leave, and began to walk toward the door.

"Chakotay..." He turned back round to face her. "Thank you." He smiled at her in acknowledgement before leaving the ready room.

Back on the bridge, Chakotay caught Harry's eyes and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Harry drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly. He felt like he'd been given his ticket back to the real world, even though the replicator restrictions had been enforced at his request in the first place. It was a quiet day, which gave him a fair amount of time to think about the preceding weeks. Much of it was still a nightmarish haze of pain and despair, but he was beginning to recognise that things were getting better. Slowly, but better all the same. It was as if this perception had considerably lightened the load he felt was weighing him down or maybe, he thought ruefully, it was just that the medication the Doc had given him was finally having some effect. Whatever. He had the ability to think again, and for that he was grateful.

Glancing up from his console Harry caught sight of Tom and felt a surge of guilt-edged pain so acute it literally took his breath away. Now that he felt that his mind might actually belong to him after all, he had a great deal of soul-searching to do, and most of it involved Tom. The difference between knowing he had to do something, and actually *doing* it was rather profound, and Harry felt his new-found grip on reality was too precarious to try and delve into the roaring maelstrom that was his memory and his feelings for Tom. He would try soon though; he owed that to himself, to Tom and what they'd had together even though the thought of trying to sort it all out terrified him.

* * *

"Tom, wait!" He turned round at B'Elanna's shout and tried to settle his features into something more pleasant than the frown he had been wearing. Too late, she'd already seen it. "I was going to ask you how you were doing, but from the look on your face I think the answer's fairly obvious." Tom forced a smile.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about things." They fell into step and continued walking down the corridor.

"Fair enough. Seriously though, how *are* you doing?"

"Surviving. I'm OK, really."

"And Harry?" Tom glared at B'Elanna, eyes spitting blue fire.

"How the hell am *I* suppose to know? He doesn't talk to me."

"Still? I'm sorry, I didn't realise..."

"Not your fault. I'm still getting used to him not being around any more."

"You and me both," sighed B'Elanna.

As Tom and B'Elanna passed out of earshot, Harry tried to ignore the pounding of his heart. He'd recognised Tom's footsteps, and ducked into a side passage to avoid him, not anticipating B'Elanna's arrival. Their half heard conversation made him realise an unpalatable truth; he was being a coward. By wrapping his hurt around himself like a cocoon, he had succeeded in pushing away everyone who had been important to him. He had been so deep in his own waking nightmare that he hadn't even noticed when Tom and B'Elanna stopped trying to get through to him. He   
had rejected Tom at a time when that rejection would have cut deepest. He couldn't help that, but he could try to pick up the pieces of their shattered friendship. And beyond? Harry shook his head trying to control the trembling that overtook his body at the thought. No, he wasn't ready for that, maybe not ever again. But the other he *could* do something about.

* * *

Tom sat alone in the mess hall. People tended to avoid him, but then he supposed he hadn't been particularly good company for much of the time in recent weeks. It had been different once... Tom firmly pushed the thought away, dwelling on the past had never helped him before. He resolutely stared at the table while he began to pick at his food.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice came from the other side of the table. Tom paid it little attention.

"No, help yourself," he said without once raising his eyes. It was only as the tray clinked down on the table that he realised whose voice it was. His gaze flew upwards to the person opposite. "Harry?"

"I can go somewhere else if you'd prefer..." Harry's hands were trembling slightly, but Tom didn't think Harry had actually noticed.

"No! No, please. Sit down." Harry sat. They stared at each other, ignoring their food, both of them too nervous to actually say anything for the longest time. Harry was the first to break his gaze away. He sighed.

"Now I'm here I've no idea what to say." He glanced up. Tom was still staring at him but with a painfully shuttered expression in his eyes." I guess I'll just start with 'I'm sorry' then. It's not enough, I know, but it's a start." He fell silent again. There was no answer from Tom, but the pain seemed to lessen in his eyes somewhat. Harry took this as a sign of encouragement. "I just needed to let you know I still want to be your friend, Tom. I know we have a hell of a lot to work through before we get there, but I want us to try... Please?" More silence. Harry stared helplessly at Tom's bent head, fighting the panic that was starting to rise in him. He prepared to leave, but before he had even shifted his weight Tom looked up, straight into his eyes.

"Give me one good reason why, Harry. You're not the only one who's been to hell and back, you know. Life hasn't exactly been all roses for the last few weeks."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Why, Harry? Just tell me." Their eyes caught and held, souls bared to each other.

"Because I miss you; because I hate the thought of you not being in my life and because no matter what else has happened you're the best friend I've ever had and I don't want to throw that away. That's why." Tom blinked and shook his head slightly. When he looked back there was a twisted half smile on his face.

"Then I think you're right. I'd hate to lose the only true friend I've had in years. But it's gonna take time, Harry."

"A hell of a lot of time. Yeah, I know. I just wanted you to consider it." Harry pushed his chair back, and rose to leave. He felt his face settling into the unfamiliar lines of a smile. "Thanks Tom. See you around?"

"Bet on it." Harry left the mess hall with the smile still on his face and a sense of accomplishment. The first step had been taken, and he already felt better for it, even though he knew the feeling may not last.

* * *

"Lieutenant Paris: Personal log...  
I find my wondering if there's something wrong with me. Shouldn't I be overjoyed that Harry has come out of the aftermath of Akritiria enough to want to speak to me again? Then why do I still feel as if I'm on trial? I know the answer to that too - we're both on trial, even if we don't realise it most of the time. Not by the Captain or the rest of the crew, but by someone with completely different standards - ourselves. I'm cursing myself for being thirty kinds of fool, but I have to admit I'm still nervous... no, the real truth is I'm still *scared*. Of Harry. And I think he is still scared of himself. So here I am, hoping with all my heart and soul that I have made the right decision in allowing Harry to try and close the distance that has grown between us. I think I have, but all the same I'm frightened of it all falling apart. And if there is a next time, there will be no going back. We may never regain what we've lost, but at least it appears that we can be friends again. I'm glad about that as I wasn't sure it would or even could happen."

 

* * *

"Is it my imagination, or has the atmosphere on the bridge improved recently?" The Captain of Voyager pinned the other two occupants of the conference room with a penetrating glance as she sat down. Tuvok, unruffled as usual, was the first to answer.

"While I am unable to comment on the emotional outlook of the senior bridge crew, I have noticed that efficiency has undergone a recent increase, particularly in the areas of Operations and Navigation." He cast a glance at Chakotay. "From this I would infer that whatever methods you have been employing to assist Mr Kim and Mr Paris to recover from the emotional trauma of their captivity have met with some success. I would like to thank you. It has been - uncomfortable - working in close proximity with Mr Kim for some weeks, and I anticipate that this will now be less of a problem." Chakotay felt slightly guilty about Tuvok's admission - he had forgotten that with the Vulcan being a touch telepath he would be susceptible to the strong emotions that Harry Kim had been experiencing.

"I recommended Harry to return to work as soon as he felt able, I hadn't realised working with him would cause you any difficulty. I'm sorry Tuvok."

"Apology accepted. I concurred with your decision at the time, and I do not feel that decision was a mistake. It is probable that Mr Kim would have required longer to reach his current stability if he had not been allowed to return to his position on the bridge."

"Which is what I," he indicated Janeway with a nod "and the Captain felt at the time." Chakotay leaned on the back of his chair, and smiled at her. "While I'm just as pleased as you about recent developments, I can't take any credit for it. Harry made a decision and followed it up himself, for which I admire him. It can't have been easy to try to reach out to Tom again, but he did and it worked."

"For which we all may be truly thankful. I honestly hadn't realised just how much those two depended on each other until recently. Which reminds me..." she glanced pointedly at the chronometer. Tuvok and Chakotay took their seats without any further urging, scant minutes before the rest of the senior staff were due to arrive.

* * *

Harry glanced round the dimly lit Sandrine's, pool cue in hand. He smiled as he watched Tom line up a shot. It had been too long since he had been here, but memories had interfered every time he had tried to run the program. Now at least those memories did not cause him the same amount of pain as they had, even though it seemed as if some things had happened to another person and not the Harry Kim he was now. Still... Sandrine's was a place with which they both felt comfortable, from the night Tom had broken into Harry's quarters to drag Harry to the holodeck to now.

Tom executed his shot with a flourish, turning to face Harry so he could extol his own brilliance and noticed Harry's pensive expression. He laid down the cue, moving to lean against the side of the pool table closest to Harry.

"Penny for them?" He asked, softly. Harry started slightly at the sound of his voice.

"What? Oh I was just thinking how much I'd missed this place. I haven't wanted to come here 'til now... too much to remember and not enough distance from it all."

"Know what you mean." The silence lengthened between them, but it felt comfortable rather than uneasy. Tom pursued his own thoughts for a while and came to a decision. "Harry, if you ever want to talk about... about what happened in Akritiria I want you to know I'm listening." Harry tensed; he had wondered if Tom would start pushing at him to discuss his experiences, which was something he really did not want to do. Not with Tom.

"I'll remember. I just don't want to talk about at the moment, OK?" he said. Tom winced slightly at Harry's curt tone of voice.

"OK, but..." Harry felt the anger slowly rise in him, sometimes Tom just would not take 'no' for an answer. He took a few steps closer.

"Look Tom, I said no and I mean *no*. I don't know why the hell you brought it up in the first place. I've been dealing with the situation as best I can and I don't need your *help* to get me through this."

Tom straightened up against the pool table; he felt his own temper fraying at the edges as Harry loomed over him, intimidating. He did not, would not, succumb to his rising panic.

"You're wrong Harry, I think you do need my help; whether you want it or not and even if you like it or not. Who the hell else is gonna understand what you went through down there? I mean *really* understand?"

"And you think you do, Tom?" Harry stepped away from Tom again, a harsh and decidedly un-humourous laugh escaping from him. "You don't understand, no-one can *ever* understand. I don't care what you went through in prison; it was nothing like the Chute. *Nothing* At least you prostituted yourself to your own *species* - I didn't have that option. You know how different it was from a *Starfleet* prison, don't you. The Dirt. The Disease. The Pain. Do you know how many diseases I brought back? Three! I was lucky the Doc could treat them. Lucky...Hah!   
And you know what?" Harry stopped pacing, whirled to face Tom.

Tom mutely shook his head, horrified.

"I'd do it all again. All of it. Just so you could survive." Harry stood staring at Tom, his chest heaving with the sudden outpouring of words. "I did all that; for you, not for myself. And then I tried to kill you. What does that make me, Tom? What the *hell* does that make me? Oh shit." He scraped his hair back from his face and stared at Tom with wild eyes.

Tom stared right back.

"It makes you human, Harry."

"I didn't want to tell you."

"I'd kinda realised anyway, Har. Some things you can't hide from your friends." Tom hitched himself up onto the pool table, patted the spot next to him. Harry gingerly moved forward to take up his perch, but refused to look at Tom.

"I'm sorry Tom."

"Me too."

"I know you went through hell in prison, too. I wasn't trying to say you didn't."

"I know. It's OK, Harry. I understand. Really."

"One good thing though..."

"Oh yeah?"

"At least we don't have to worry about how we're both going to react when I lose my temper now." Tom sprang off the pool table to stand facing Harry, close enough to touch.

"What?" Harry stretched out a hand to pat Tom on the shoulder.

"You can't deny that you've been frightened of me hitting you again when I'm angry, can you?" Tom spluttered.

"Yes!"

Harry was relentless.

"Can you?" Tom's resistance collapsed in the face of Harry's determination.

"No. I've absolutely hated the feeling, but it just wouldn't go away. And if I've felt like that - what about you?"

"I've hated it too. It's terrified me, kept me awake nights. The fear that I'll hit you again; and even worse, your fear that I'll hit you again. What if we were right? I couldn't stand it. So I kept away from you." Tom moved away from Harry, to lean back against the pool table. He smiled, tilting his head back slightly so he could catch Harry's eyes.

"Isn't it good to know we can both be wrong?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled back, "It is." He slid off the pool table, still smiling. "Don't we have a game to finish?" He wandered over to where his cue had fallen, forgotten in the tumult of released emotions, and picked it up before making his way back to Tom's side. "Your shot, I believe?"   
Tom grinned, and reached for his own cue. He lined up a shot, missed, and stepped away from the table.

"Welcome back, Harry," Tom said. They both knew that Tom meant to much more than just the game. Harry looked at Tom, eyes full of the intensity that neither of them would express aloud. He took a deep breath, strangely nervous once more.

"I'm glad to *be* back." Their eyes held for a moment, communicating everything they hadn't or couldn't say, until Harry threw down his cue once more and enveloped Tom in a massive hug. Tom, surprised, reciprocated as best he could considering he had a handful of pool cue and his arms were pinned by Harry.

"Forget the game, Harry. Let's celebrate." As they turned to leave, Tom managed to fling an arm round Harry's shoulder. "I'm hungry, you up to a trip to the messhall?"

"I thought you said we were celebrating? But the messhall will do." They left together, feeling closer to each other than they had in a long time. Behind the bar Sandrine gave a small, but triumphant, smile as the program quietly shut down.

End


End file.
